


Over You

by lacemonster



Series: Lacemonster's Gifts [14]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Blood, Bondage, Cuckolding, Guilt, Humiliation, Kidnapping, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Shame, Underage Rape/Non-con, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:48:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26888389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacemonster/pseuds/lacemonster
Summary: Cluemaster has escaped from prison. Tim and Stephanie try to capture him, but end up getting caught instead.Completely powerless in Arthur's hands, Tim learns the consequences of dating a supervillain's daughter.
Relationships: Arthur Brown/Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake
Series: Lacemonster's Gifts [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1181402
Comments: 3
Kudos: 49





	Over You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [go_Devil89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/go_Devil89/gifts).



> WARNING PLEASE READ
> 
> This fic is very violent. In fact, it probably has more violence than actual porn... please stay away if that is upsetting to you. Also keep all of the tags in mind. This fic is pretty graphic so if you're on the fence, I would advise to not read it. Any upset comments will be ignored and deleted.
> 
> This fic was written for go_Devil89! Thank you so much for your support!

Tim’s eyelids were heavy. He willed himself to open his eyes, the blurry room slowly coming into focus. The space was dimly lit, a lamp glowing in the corner. As his vision steadied, Tim found that he recognized the lampshade’s delicate, scalloped edges. His gaze drifted upwards, the pop-punk poster confirming his suspicions.

This was Stephanie’s room. And Tim had a strong feeling it wasn’t her who had brought him to this place.

Memories of the night started to drift through his pounding head. There was a problem at Blackgate. Several inmates had escaped. He remembered following Stephanie on a trail to find her father. The last place he remembered was Arthur’s old hideout, everything was blurry after that.

Tim moved to get up but was unable to budge. He realized too late that his hands were bound behind his back, his ankles tightly corded together. His initial reaction was panic—already, he could feel his heart racing. This wasn’t good.

He took a deep breath to calm himself. He looked down at his own body. He had been stripped of his cape, vest, and utility belt. All of the usual things that made him feel safe. But he noticed his boots were still on, which meant his shiv in the sole could still be there.

He started to reach for his boots, the mattress shifting underneath his movements.

“Tim?” a voice said, soft and tentative.

Time stopped, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. He followed the trail of blonde hair to the person chained up behind him. Tim’s heart lurched forward at the realization.

“Steph, are you okay?” he said, words rushed. Stephanie gently shushed him.

“Keep your voice down. He’s downstairs. He has my mom down there.”

Tim tensed at that. No, this wasn’t good, this wasn’t good at all. Still, he tried to be calm. He had to stay focused.

“Don’t worry. There’s a shiv in my boot, I’m pretty sure I can cut through the ropes. Then I’ll get you both out of here—you and your mom.”

“Are you crazy?” Stephanie whispered harshly. Steph lifted her hands, drawing attention to the metal links and padlock. “You can’t cut through metal. As soon as you cut yourself out, _run._ ”

Tim ignored her, choosing to concentrate on getting the shiv. He found it difficult to move, not just because of his restraints, but because his body felt heavy and sluggish. As he worked to get a grasp of his boot, he tried to think about how they ended up in this situation. Arthur must have snuck up behind them, maybe even hit them with some type of sedative. Both would explain the aches in Tim’s head and body.

Eventually, he managed to reach his boot. He groped around the sole, but there was nothing there. He cursed under his breath. _New plan,_ he thought to himself.

“Tim, I’m so sorry, I never should have gotten you involved in this—“

“Stop apologizing, I’ll get us out, I promise.” Tim needed more ideas. “I don’t have a key for the padlock and I can’t cut through the metal, but we might be able to try something else. Your chains are linked to the bedpost, right? If I could unscrew the bolts—“

“Seriously, Tim, he doesn’t want you. He only wants me and Mom. I’ve gotten you involved enough. If you stick around, he’ll just hurt you to get to me. Run, _please—_ “

Tim ignored her, looking around the room for anything he might be able to use to get them free. It just looked like a normal teenager’s room, but it was Stephanie, who had made a hobby of picking up hobbies. She had to have _something_ in her hoard of junk.

“Okay, I need something sharp and then something to unscrew the bedpost. Do you have anything in here I could use? If you don’t have a screwdriver, maybe I could use something hard and flat, like an old ID or something?”

“Tim, forget about me. Cut yourself out and go, _please_. You can get help after you escape.”

The desperation in her voice almost made Tim reconsider. But the idea of handing Steph and her mom back to their abuser was unacceptable. What hero would he be if he let Arthur hold onto them, even for a second?

But Stephanie was right. Batman was always an option.

Probably the better option.

Tim closed his eyes, trying to push away his own ego. More than the bruised pride, he was just… afraid.

“What if he hurts you? What if he takes you away?” Tim whispered.

“Tim…” Stephanie started, then stopped. Her voice grew firm. “You’ll find us. I know you will. You’re crazy smart. But if he hurts you, I won’t forgive myself.”

“Tell me where a knife is.”

“I—I don’t know. You could check the drawers.” Her whisper suddenly grew more urgent, a thought crossing her mind. “Wait, my desk—I might have a knife in there with my art stuff.”

That was all the information Tim needed. With some extra wriggling, he managed to loop his bound hands underneath his legs, freeing them from his back. Instantly, he felt relief in his shoulders. _Okay, that was step one._ Tim swung his tied legs over the mattress. The last thing he was going to do was hop around and make a bunch of noise, so he slowly lowered himself to the carpet. He’d have to army-crawl his way to the desk.

All of his Robin bootcamp with Batman and Nightwing paid off—he managed to crawl over to Steph’s desk in no time. He carefully opened the drawer, but there wasn’t any proper lighting in the corner of the room. With some effort, Tim managed to get up on his knees, but even when he looked down in the drawer, all he saw were shadowed objects crowded together.

“Where is it, Steph?” he said. He tried to keep quiet, but searching was impossible. The closer he was to getting the knife, the more pressure he felt. He hadn’t given up on freeing Stephanie and her mom. If he worked fast enough—

“It’s yellow. It might be in my pencil case.”

“What does that look like?”

“It has Superboy on it.”

“Superboy…?” Tim’s voice sounded deflated.

“I bought it before I met you—wait, why am I explaining myself—“

“I’m messing with you, I got it.”

Tim unzipped the pouch but his hands were too clumsy. Frustrated, he turned the bag over, dumping its contents. A yellow box-cutter tumbled across the carpet. Tim’s heart lurched with excitement.

Before he could even move, the door swung open.

Tim’s eyes darted in Arthur’s direction—him, standing tall in the doorway, a hard look in his eyes—before fatally landing on the utility knife between them. Both he and Arthur looked at the tool.

“Run!” Stephanie said, but Tim wasn’t leaving without a fight. Not when he was this close. He slid himself across the floor, but of course Arthur was faster, swooping down to catch the knife.

Tim swung his legs, managing to swipe Arthur’s legs out from under him. Arthur tripped, catching himself on the nearby wall, the impact reverberating throughout the room. The utility knife fell back to the carpet. Tim saw his chance. He rolled over, managing to snatch the knife.

His hands, sweaty and shaking with nerves, pushed up on the latch. But before he could get any further, an arm wrapped around his throat. He used his last breath to shout as he was yanked off the ground, trying desperately to hold onto the knife, but it was plucked out of his hands far too easily.

Arthur tossed him back onto the bed. Tim grunted as he hit the mattress, his head clipping the bedframe. He just now noticed Stephanie’s uproar, the room filled with the sounds of her shouting and cursing, the rattle of her chains as she pulled at them. The whole bed bounced as she thrashed.

Tim struggled to sit up, the adrenaline of the fight still coursing through him, _fight, you’re stronger than this, fight—_

Arthur struck him hard, a cracking pain spreading across his skull. Everything went quiet. Tim thought he might have heard Stephanie cry his name, but his ears were ringing. The whole room shook and blurred. He felt sick.

Something heavy crawled on top of him. His head lolled back, looking. His vision had doubled, twin images of Arthur hovering over him as he straddled him. Tim could barely think, but his survival impulse pulled through. He raised his tied hands, trying to block the next blow. Arthur’s fist came hammering down on his hands. The next did not miss, hitting Tim across the jaw.

Tim’s vision flashed. Distantly, he tasted the bitter copper of blood in his mouth.

“Dad, _stop_!” he heard.

Tim raised his hands again. They were knocked aside. Another jab struck him in the cheek, skull rattling as his head was knocked aside. Tim choked and coughed on the blood that welled inside of his mouth.

“Dad, stop! You’re killing him, stop!”

He was hit again. Again. Again. Tim couldn’t keep up with Arthur’s rapid, crazed strikes.. Every inch of his face prickled with pain. Red and black flashed before his eyes. He could barely think, but his mind pulsed with every one of Steph’s screams. _You’re killing him. Stop. You’re killing him. You’re killing him._

“Shut up!” Arthur bellowed. Tim’s headache pounded with all of the screaming. His body burned and prickled. His vision wouldn’t stop spinning.

“Dad, stop, Daddy _please_ , you’ll kill him—“

Her voice was breaking and raw. Arthur was screaming back at her. It took a moment for Tim to even process that Arthur had paused in his beating. His face throbbed with so much pain that it felt unending, but then he finally opened his eyes. One of Arthur’s fists had caught him above the brow, blood dripping into his eye. The whole right side of his face was sticky with blood. But the other eye saw Stephanie, her bound legs using what limited mobility they had to strike Arthur in the back.

They were arguing, Arthur grabbing onto her legs, pinning them down. Arthur was focused on her now, screaming in her face as she cried. Tim couldn’t hear what they were saying. He could barely focus.

_Fight_ , Tim’s mind spoke, distantly. But he couldn’t move. He coughed, red spraying across his green shirt. He felt the trail of blood that dripped down his swollen cheek onto his lips, uncertain if the blood had come from inside of his mouth or from his brow cut.

He willed himself to move, but his hands and ankles were still tied, his body sluggish. As he moved, his body grew hot, his vision spun. When his eyes focused again, he saw Arthur with his hand over Stephanie’s mouth.

Tim’s first thought was that Arthur was suffocating her. The thought spurred his body into action again. He weakly swung his arms into Arthur’s back.

Arthur quickly turned over, a single hand shoving into his face, planting Tim back into the bed. Clarity was returning to him now. He moved to fight back but then he heard a clicking sound. Before he knew it, a box cutter was being shoved in his face, poised toward his eye. At that, Tim finally stilled.

Next to him, he could hear Stephanie whimpering, the sounds muffled. He dared to glance in her direction, surprised to meet her eyes. Her eyes were big and glassy with fear, her hair tangled and face pink with exertion. Tim just now noticed the fabric tied around her mouth.

Arthur jerked Tim by the hair, forcing Tim’s gaze toward him. The man was unmasked, giving Tim a clear view of his hateful grimace. His long, blond hair was tied back, the loose strands giving him a disheveled, crazed appearance. Arthur’s hands and shirt were marked with blood.

They were at a standstill for a moment, Arthur taking a few moments to catch his breath.

“Stephie, didn’t I warn you to stay away from boys? Especially after the last one?” Arthur mocked. His amusement might have been more noticeable if his voice hadn’t run so cold.

Stephanie could barely protest with the fabric in her mouth, her voice muffled. Tim stood up for her.

“The only person she needs to stay away from you,” he said, but his voice was too weak and dazed to sound intimidating. All the words slurred together drunkenly. He was effectively silenced when the knife drew closer. One slip of Arthur’s hand and Tim would be blinded. Tim shut his mouth, holding his breath, afraid to move.

Tim could hear Stephanie’s panicked breaths next to him, her shuddering exhales sounding mournful. He wished he could apologize. He should have ran. Should have gotten help.

Batman could have saved them.

Tim could not.

Then, Arthur’s knife lowered. Tim winced as the razor sharp edge grazed along the curve of his cheek, leaving a papercut-thin slice along his skin. Tim clenched his jaw, fighting back a hiss at the sharp pain. What terrified him most was Arthur’s gaze, those blue eyes staring with an icy numbness, which made him all the more unpredictable.

“I never wanted a son. Boys are too much trouble.”

The amusement in Arthur’s voice was as cold as his gaze. Tim’s heart raced more and more as he followed the trail of Arthur’s hand with the knife, which steadily lowered further and further down the center of Tim’s body.

“I know exactly what goes on in a teen boy’s mind. Don’t be fooled by the hero act, Stephie. They all want one thing.”

Arthur twisted his wrist, the knife snagging onto the front seam of Tim’s pants, pulling the threads undone. Tim’s eyes widened, he inhaled sharply through his nose. He felt his body retreating from the touch, wanting nothing more than to sink through the mattress, the knife drawing far too close to his groin. He tried to keep still, scared that even a single breath would put him in position of the knife’s cut. Stephanie voiced his concerns for him, whimpering against her gag.

“I still remember the very first thought that ran through my mind when Crystal told me she was pregnant…”

Arthur turned the knife again. It ripped through the fabric. Despite himself, Tim couldn’t help but feel a rush of humiliation. Arthur had cut through his clothing, Tim’s groin now exposed to both father and daughter. But his embarrassment quickly paled to his fear, his nerves spiking as the knife poised at the base of his cock.

The threat shot terror into him. He wanted nothing more than to kick and fight, but he was frozen, terrified that even one wrong breath would draw blood and dismemberment, and yet he couldn’t stop the panicked, hyperventilating that rose through his chest.

Only now, the cold shell of Arthur’s face broke, a cruel smile drawing on his lips.

“...No sons, only daughters.”

Terror shot into Tim’s brain. But before he could even form another thought, Arthur grabbed him by the shoulder. Tim found himself flipped onto his stomach. In this motion, Tim saw his opportunity to fight back. He bucked underneath Arthur, trying to throw him off, but even with the opportunity, the man was stronger and would not budge.

Tim’s breaths quickened. His face was partly buried in the mattress, partly budging into Stephanie’s side. Tim could feel Steph’s body rise and fall quickly, her panicked breathing matching his own. Tim was ready to curse and shout but felt Arthur’s hand dig into the ripped opening of his pants, yanking them open even further, the ugly sound of the tearing filled the room.

It was then that Tim started to realize Arthur’s intentions. The man wasn’t going to cut him. But he was going to do something equally vicious and horrible.

“Get off!” Tim yelled, but Arthur’s hand pushed Tim’s head down. Any verbal protests were buried into Stephanie’s warm body.

“I know this isn’t your first time in my daughter’s room. What do you have to say for yourself, boy?” Arthur’s words strung together, heated and vicious. “Did you have fun climbing through her window? Bet you used to get horned-up, thinking about sticking your little virgin prick inside of my Steph.”

Tim tried to block out his words, but every time Arthur spoke, his blood boiled. He was snapped out of his anger and humiliation when Arthur wrangled a hand underneath his body, squeezing painfully around his cock and balls. Tim jolted at the painful touch, crying out, but his protests were useless. Arthur only squeezed that much tighter around him, making him scream into the mattress. Everything hurt, searing pain twisting around his groin, making Tim shake and thrash.

“Speak up, son,” Arthur said as Tim gasped for breath, twisting and yelling under his grip. Arthur drew in close, his harsh words fanning against Tim’s ear. “I hate shitty little brats like you. Trying to stick your baby dick in my daughter. Thought you were going to fuck my daughter and brag about it to your pervert friends, huh?”

Tim nearly gasped when Arthur finally released him. The relief was so great that tears sprung to his eyes, even as his cock stung and throbbed with pain. But that relief was quickly squashed when Arthur started moving on top of him. Without even seeing, Tim could hear him pulling his belt through its loops, the buckle ringing in the air. Stephanie was suddenly reanimated. She squirmed against her restraints, the chains clanging against the bedpost as she fought to get free.

Tim hissed as his head was yanked back by his hair, the strands pulling at his scalp. His hands instinctively went to his head, but Arthur was quick. In seconds, the belt was looping around Tim’s face. Tim reached for the leather in his mouth, but the belt tightened and fastened around his head, the bitter taste of leather filling his senses.

Tim tried to pry his fingers under the belt, but his tied-up hands were too clumsy, and Arthur held the belt with all the control of a master with a set of reins.

“Let’s see how much you like being on the receiving end,” Arthur said, his voice low.

Tim’s breath quickened at the threat. Heart pounding against his chest. No, no, he had to stop this—

Already, the belt was hurting him. With every breath and protest, Tim could feel the saliva and blood pooling in his mouth, the seams of the belt digging into the corners of his mouth. But he couldn’t focus on the discomfort, he had to strategize escaping Arthur’s hold—but it seemed hopeless. Arthur straddled him, his weight effectively pinning Tim to the bed. Tim tried to kick at him but his tied legs couldn’t get a good angle, couldn’t muster any strength.

Tim was so lost in struggling that he hadn’t picked up on Stephanie’s voice, her protests muffled by her gag. He only noticed it after Arthur grabbed him by the hip, aligning their bodies. Tim’s worst fear finally began to settle in. His nostrils flared under his quickened breaths, terror chilling his blood. He had to get out. He had to. He tried to pull away but Arthur yanked on the belt like it was a leash, keeping him still.

“Don’t pussy out on me now. You wanted to get laid, right?” Arthur said with a growl. But it wasn’t all aggression—there was a gloating to his voice. A glee to his power. This was a man who hated Tim and everything he represented—the hero who had turned his daughter against him, the one who put him in jail—and enjoyed every bit of punishment and torture he inflicted on the symbol that ruined his life. It terrified Tim.

But there was nothing he could do. Already, Tim could feel Arthur against his exposed entrance, cock hot and hard. It prodded insistently at his tight, unprepped entrance. Tim groaned around the strap in protest—no, he’d never fit, it wasn’t _possible_.

His cries rose higher and higher as Arthur started to breach him. Sharp pain raced up his spine. He felt like he was being split open. He couldn’t even wriggle around, Arthur now pulling so hard at the belt that Tim arched at the back, his chest pushing forward.

Tim’s whole body was hot and sweating, his mind racing with fear and desperation. _No, no, get off of me—_

The tip of Arthur’s cock pushed in, making Tim yell around the belt. The humiliation and terror and pain of being penetrated suddenly overwhelmed Tim, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, mixing with the blood and saliva dribbling down his face.

Arthur grunted and groaned as he forced his cock into Tim’s tight, dry heat. Every insistent thrust inched his cock deeper inside of Tim, forcefully stretching him open. All Tim felt was pain and discomfort. It felt like he was being torn apart from the inside, searing white pain digging deeper into his body.

He wanted to fight. He tried to fight. But his bound hands were his only balance, his legs could not kick. He found himself stuck in place—head pulled back, one eye staring down at the blood splotches that rained the bedspread like rose petals. He could do nothing but lay there, useless and weak, as Arthur forced his way into him.

Tim felt every searing inch plunge into him. He groaned and cried with pain, his muffled voice his only relief in his powerless situation. He had never experienced this new pain—all he could think was that he wanted it _out_ , he wanted it _out_ of him—

Arthur groaned in his ear when he finally sunk down to the base. At that point, Tim’s entire body was shaking. He had never felt so full, so stretched. Arthur was completely inside of him and Tim’s mind was still catching up to the fact that this was happening at all. All of the cases he worked, all the horrors he had heard about and seen—this was happening to him, it was actually happening, and there was nothing he could do—

He couldn’t think. Could barely breathe. Arthur moved inside of him, in and out, forcefully opening up Tim’s body. And still, Tim could not process this was happening. This wasn’t happening to him. It couldn’t have been. But he felt it, in every new ache and burning pain of Arthur plunging into his ass, ripping him open, the dry friction between their bodies building into a painful heat.

Tim shook and yelled and none of it mattered. He felt highly aware of every sensation, every burning pain, and yet time moved loosely as Arthur worked into a rhythm, fucking into Tim’s body with shallow thrusts.

Arthur yanked on the belt again, forcing Tim’s sagging posture back into the correct position.

“You want a fucking, boy, then that’s exactly what you’ll get—“Arthur hissed. Tim let out a choking sob against the leather in his mouth as Arthur picked up his pace, brutally fucking into Tim’s ass, the pain intensifying. Tim squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking from the corners. “This is the last time you’ll ever come around. You thought you’d take my daughter away from me? Thought you’d take my family away from me?”

Tim didn’t want to think about Arthur’s words. He just wanted to escape. But every jerk of the belt, every thrust inside of his ass, brought him back to that hellscape.

Against his will, Tim could feel his body opening up. His body was hot, sweaty, exhausted, hurting—and it was giving up its last resistance. Arthur slid in and out of him, faster now. Easier now. The bed shook underneath their movements. Their bodies clapped together, Arthur’s balls pressing up against Tim’s ass, and Tim was humiliated by the sound of his own body. Humiliated that he had been beaten so thoroughly. He should have ran, he should have never thought he could help—

Tim groaned in pain when his head was being twisted in Stephanie’s direction. He had been so distracted that he hadn’t noticed Stephanie was still struggling against her chains until their eyes met. Stephanie stopped, momentarily stunned by their faces meeting.

“Look at him, Stephie. _Look_.” Tim’s face burned when Arthur forcefully shoved his face in closer to meet hers. And Steph did look, paralyzed in place. There was no warmth in her eyes. None of her usual ferocity or humor. Just fear. And something else. _Disgust,_ Tim realized, and as much as it hurt, he could only imagine what she saw. Her so-called boyfriend getting raped by her dad, gagged by a belt, his face covered in blood and sweat and saliva.

He was disgusting.

“You can do so much better than him. You don’t need to hang out with pathetic little perverts like him.”

Tim felt every bit as low, pathetic, and weak as Arthur made him out to be. Tim was disgusted in himself, so much so he felt his stomach twist, his eyes burning with tears again. Arthur kept pounding into him, his long thrusts rocking Tim across the mattress, his body bumping into Stephanie’s. Tim could do nothing but close his eyes and try to escape. But as much as he tried to mentally escape, he couldn’t. Every sound, every smell, every sensation drew him back in—the drag of Arthur’s cock inside of him, every push and pull, all of it.

“Who’s the bitch now? Who’s getting bred now?”

Every word dug into Tim’s head. He could feel the tears burning hotter now, his ribcage trembling with every choked sob. He regretted it. He regretted everything. So badly, he just wished someone was coming to save them—Batman, Nightwing, his teammates, _anyone—_

But no one was coming, because he had fucked up, he thought he could handle this, and now he was getting raped and would probably get killed and it was all his fault and Stephanie and her mom were going to be trapped forever—

Arthur sped up. Tim groaned in protests around the belt, which was now starting to cut into the corners of his mouth. The sounds of their bodies increased, Tim being pounded into the bed. Arthur drove the full weight of his body into every thrust. Tim had never felt those areas of his body, so deep, deeper than he thought was possible. He’d never be able to forget that sensation, never be able to wash it from his body.

Arthur’s breath quickened. His cock pulsed and throbbed inside of Tim. Tim sensed what was coming next. The dread of it consumed him. It was the final push that broke him, even before it happened. Thick tears ran down his face, sobs choked by the belt, his face hot. He didn’t want it. He didn’t want any of it, but especially not this.

But it happened. Arthur yanked hard on the belt, enough to yank Tim’s head backwards. Arthur pushed into Tim as deeply as he could go, their bodies pressed tightly together, as Arthur came. Tim’s eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out the sensation of Arthur dumping his seed inside of him. He felt the come flood his walls, burying deep inside. Hot and thick and _everywhere_ , there was so much, so much of it filling him up and coating his insides.

Arthur thrust into Tim throughout his climax, packing his ejaculate deep inside of Tim. An overwhelming amount of emotion swelled up inside of Tim’s chest, his shoulders shuddering as waves of shame and grief echoed through him. He was still sobbing when Arthur finally loosened the belt and withdrew his cock. Fresh humiliation wracked him when ejaculate began to run down his thighs.

Tim was jerked out of his crying by a loud sound. The sound of metal crashing. Before he could catch what was happening, he saw a blur of movement, followed by the sound of Arthur shouting. Tim turned his head in the direction of the action and watched as Stephanie, hands free and wielding the abandoned box cutter, pulled her arm back. An arc of blood from Arthur’s shoulder followed the knife’s exit. Arthur fell over the edge of the bed, groaning and cursing, hand cupping over the wound and he profusely bled over the carpet.

Stephanie looked at him, then her blood-covered hands, then at Tim. Upon making eye contact with Tim, Steph jerked out of whatever daze she had fallen under. She turned Tim over onto his back. With a few swipes of the blade, she ripped through Tim’s bindings. Tim’s heart raced once he was freed—but his freedom still hung in the balance. Arthur was back on his feet and was charging toward them.

Tim saw him coming. He was ready this time. He rolled out of the way of Arthur’s hands at the last minute. With a fighting strength he didn’t even know he had, he grabbed the bedside lamp and swung it as hard as he could at Arthur’s head. The porcelain shattered everywhere. Arthur’s body slumped facefirst into the mattress.

Tim breathed hard, staring at Arthur’s body. When he was certain he was not moving, he looked to Stephanie, who had just finished pulling off her gag.

Tim immediately found a set of keys hooked to Arthur’s back beltloops. He took it and hurried as fast as he could to Stephanie’s side, undoing the chains to the padlock on her ankles. He was going to ask how she had gotten free, but as he worked, he noticed the way she cradled her own hand. She had to have broken her own wrist to slip through those bindings.

A moment ago Tim had never felt so low, but now he was riding an adrenaline-high. Now was their chance to escape. The moment Stephanie was freed, she threw her arms around him, and Tim found himself being forced to slow down.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—“

Tim wanted nothing more than to return her embrace, but he couldn’t. It was best to not think about it. He couldn’t think about it. He felt all of his shame and misery rise in his chest and had no choice but to stuff it back down.

“Let’s get your mom and go.”

They watched from a distance as the GCPD pulled up in front of Stephanie’s house. They had managed to find Tim’s things, the cloak sheltering most of his bruises and torn clothing. But Tim didn’t feel fixed. He didn’t feel normal. He was tired. Hurt. Filthy. But he wouldn’t be happy until he at least saw the bastard led out in handcuffs, so he stayed.

He bristled in place when Arthur appeared in the doorway. Even when the monster was shoved into the back of a police car, Tim did not relax.

His tension must have shown. A hand slipped into his, holding it tightly. Tim wanted Stephanie’s support, but he couldn’t stand the feeling of being touched. There was too much standing between them. Too much guilt and shame. He pulled his hand away.

“Tim, I’m really sorry—“

“It’s not your fault. I should have got help—“

It was suddenly difficult to speak. His throat was closing up on him. He turned away but Stephanie only drew closer. A hand reached for his shoulder—then stopped, hovering in the newfound distance between them.

“Don’t say that,” she said, her voice quiet. “I never meant it like that. I just—I didn’t want you to get hurt—“

“If someone else had been here—“

“You _tried._ And you did it, Tim, you saved us. Don’t listen to what he said, you’re not any of those things. You’re the bravest, strongest person I know,” she insisted, a pleading tone to her voice, a voice that tried desperately to pull him back in. But Tim couldn’t be drawn in, as much as her words tugged at his heart.

Because it was all starting to sink in now. All the memories that had been beaten out of his head were starting to come back. Back when they heard the news about Blackgate, it was Stephanie who had gone to find her father, and it was Tim who had followed her instead of telling Batman.

“If someone else…” Tim trailed off, unable to finish.

“I couldn’t have done it with anyone else.”

At that, Tim finally looked at Stephanie. He saw something reflecting back at him in her glassy eyes. Hurt, guilt, shame. This time when she stepped toward him, he let his arms fold around her. He stood there, both of them holding each other—but he kept his eyes open, staring ahead at the puddles on the street, watching as the red and blue lights flashed. Until they finally ceased.


End file.
